Don’t bother me.
I’ve just
been born.
The butterfly’s loping flight
carries it through the country of

Don’t call this world adorable, or
It’s frisky, and a theater for mor
The eyelash of lightning is neithe
The struck tree burns like a pilla
But the blue rain sinks, straight

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,

Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun

Go to Tibet.
Ride a camel.
Read the Bible.
Dye your shoes blue.
Grow a Beard.

When I think about myself,
I almost laugh myself to death,
My life has been one great big jok
A dance that’s walked
A song that’s spoke,

I thought it would last my time—
The sense that, beyond the town,
There would always be fields and f
Where the village louts could clim
Such trees as were not cut down;

Understand, I am always trying to
what the soul is,
and where hidden,
and what shape
and so, last week,

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.

I can feel the tug
of the halter at the nape
of her neck, the wind
on her naked front.
It blows her nipples

If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.
Going to church
Would entail a fording

Up, black, striped and demasked li
At a funeral mass, the skunk’s tai
Paraded the skunk. Night after ni
I expected her like a visitor.
The refrigerator whinnied into sil